


Floating's Better

by gala_apples



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Episode Tag, Genderqueer Character, Making Out, Marijuana, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after everyone leaves the pool they broke into? Set directly after 5x01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floating's Better

Franky jumps into the pool for the hundredth time tonight. She squeezes her eyes closed and pinches her nose before she hits water. She wants to time how long she can be deprived of her senses. She knows that when her lungs start spasming and her body starts panicking she’ll instinctively try to breathe through her nose, unless it’s pinched. She doesn’t want that to happen. She wants to stay underwater as long as possible.

By the time she’s coming up things have changed on the surface. The boys are both politely looking in one direction, Grace on the side they’re facing away from. Grace has her outfit back on, from cream dress to her fancy belt to her beaded flower hair ornament. The fabric is slightly stained with damp, but her hair’s not noticeably wet. “This has been fun, only I have to get home before curfew.”

Alo turns around, nodding. “Just give me a minute to figure out where my trousers are.”

Grace smiles in that innocent way she has, where it doesn’t matter what she’s doing because she’s quite obviously doing it for your own good. “No, it’s quite alright. My dad knows what your van looks like Alo. I don’t think he would be pleased if he spotted you. No, I better take a cab.”

She goes then, leaving Franky treading water and Rich and Alo both on the concrete, dripping. Franky wonders who’s colder. Alo’s naked, but Rich’s Trivium shirt is rippling in the wind.

Rich stretches out his leg and nudges her shoulder with his foot. She bobs slightly with the weight. “Do you have a curfew too?”

“No. My dads don’t care. They’re happy I’m out, probably they’ll be happy if I stay out. I just shouldn’t tell them where I spent the evening. B and E is a habit I was supposed to give up. You?”

“Well actually me and Alo are gonna go to mine.” 

“You wanna come get high little lady?” Alo asks waggling his eyebrows.

“Yes.” 

It’s both the correct answer in this sort of social situation, and the one she means. Sure Franky’d had access to drugs before. She essentially grew up with them, thanks to Dean. Before he went to jail and she got adopted her daily routine involved at least five smoke breaks, but she’s had nothing since the onset of her hell school. She really could have used them there. Drugs make Franky lose her body, just like the sensory deprivation she can get in a pool. Spliff was the only thing that got her through puberty and the discomfort of what her body was doing. Spliff might be the only thing that gets her through the outright hatred Mini seems to hold for her.

When she levers herself out of the water Alo tosses her his hideous orange and white button down. It’s already pretty damp, since he used it first, but it’s better than nothing for drying herself off. She pulls her own button down on top of her wet undershirt, and her jacket on top of that. Rich gathers the hem of his shirt into a cylinder and twists. Alo only pulls on his light yellow suit pants on before heading towards the car.

Rich’s house is the first friends house Franky’s been in since Dean’s. It’s a lot more... suburban. There are pictures hanging. All of the light sockets have lightbulbs. The carpet looks like it’s been recently vacuumed, for godsake. Rich’s room is covered in metal paraphernalia. The posters and bedding are both liberally spotted with skulls, as are the vinyl albums he has displayed. And then there’s the gigantic, expensive speakers. Franky’s never seen someone so dedicated to a theme before. She drops onto the corner of the twin bed and waits for one of them to get out the stuff. Rich and Alo are best friends, no doubt Alo knows where Rich hides illicit things.

Rich pulls out a wood burnt box. Inside it is about seven grams tucked inside a plastic take out sauce container, a bunch of packets of flavoured papers, and a pipe. Alo takes out the first and last and starts to pack a bowl. It’s a nice glass pipe; good size, clear, with red and black streaks. Basically it’s as metal as the rest of the room.

The more Franky inhales the more she knows she’s right to be where she is. Grace might like her, but she’ll never pick her. Rich and Alo might. “Did you mean it? That you could go gay for me?” It’s not the question she meant to ask, but as the words float out of her mouth she realises she does want the answer.

Alo thinks for a second then shrugs.

“It’s not much of a stretch for him,” Rich jokes.

“Shut up. You’re gay.”

“You’re gay.”

“You’re gay!”

“Guys!” Franky interrupts, sure that they could go on forever. “You know my plural dads are gay, right? That doesn’t work as an insult.”

“It’s not meant to be. Truth is me and Rich have been known to help each other out when we can’t get any clunge.”

“That’s why it works. It’s almost true,” Rich explains.

Huh. She wouldn’t have thought bisexual, looking at them. But that’s not really fair. Just because her sexuality issues are obvious upon first glance doesn’t mean everyone has to be instantly readable. “I’m not saying that you’d go fully gay. I know I’m technically a girl. But I’m kind of a guy.”

“Yeah.” Alo nods and takes another puff.

Franky’s only used the word once or twice, but she knows she has to clarify. As stoned as she is, Alo’s worse. “I’m genderqueer.”

This time it’s Rich who nods. “Yeah. Your wearing a suit to a formal occasion meant andro, at least. I like hot girls. I also like you. That’s only a problem if _you_ think it is. Because Alo doesn’t either.”

“Nope,” Alo confirms with a grin.

Franky laughs out loud. The pot’s making her feel as normal as she ever feels, but life’s better than that. She’s got friends, but life is even better than that. She and Dean just used to wallow in the muck together, attracted to each other only for recognising the shittiness of the world. For the first time ever, someone is potentially attracted to her. Two someones, even. It’s just hysterical. “I want to kiss you.”

“Which one?”

“Whoever gets here first.”

It’s not a hair pulling, stepping on faces race. But they both do try. Rich wins, if that’s the word for it. He joins her on the bed, pulling her sideways until her knee is mashed into the mattress. He puts a black nailed hand on her cheek and starts kissing her. He’s good, not that Franky has a wealth of experience to draw from. Dean, a few times. Not a lot of guys like a girl who’s not even sure she’s a girl.

“Hey, you’re hogging,” Alo complains from the floor after a minute.

Rich reaches out blindly to hit him. Franky can’t see beyond Rich’s cheekbones and hair, but the crack of skin says he made contact. Alo doesn’t take that laying down. He shoves back, hard enough to rock Rich into her. Rich pulls away, sighing hugely. “Christ. Fine, you giant turd.”

Once he gets off the carpet Alo straddles Franky’s lap, apparently not caring that that’s a very feminine position. His lips are cracked from constant pot smoking. Franky doesn’t let the texture bother her. Besides, hopefully soon her own lips will be just as bad. If they can make a routine of this -this getting high and feeling wanted and feeling right thing, this beautiful thing- she’ll taste of pot, smell of pot, exude pot as much as Alo is.

“Can I touch your boobs?”

“Uh.” Huh. She didn’t figure this would come up so early. Dean never wanted to. There’s a reason Franky always wears so many layers. She likes forgetting she even has them. A bra-undershirt-shirt-jacket combination usually does the trick.

“I could say chest if you want. That’s gender neutral and stuff,” Alo continues optimistically.

“You can grope me if you roll me a spliff later.”

“Deal!” Alo leans back in and kisses her more forcefully this time. The hand on her chest isn’t all that erotic, nor is Rich’s on her thigh, they’re both more squeezing than anything else, but at least she’s getting a joint out of the deal. Franky likes smoking them but she’s shit at rolling them.

It’s not until they completely stop touching her some time later, Rich to pick a packet of skins, Alo to begin tearing up the big clump of weed into fine granules that will burn better, that Franky starts to freak out. Maybe it’s because she’s sobering up. Sobriety means harsh reality, which has always been her nemesis.

“I’m messed up, you know.”

“We’re all messed up. Or at least that’s what those corporate asshole sell outs would have us believe.” Rich is looking down at the box trying to decide on a flavour, but Franky would bet money he’s rolling his eyes at The Man.

“I’m really messed up though. Are you sure you want to get involved with me?”

“Given the choice between someone like you and someone like Mini, I’d say the choice is obvious,” Alo says. Like it’s reasonable to want her over a blonde piece of perfection.

But Rich is cackling proudly, exclaiming prerolled! as he pulls a joint out of the box, and asks which one of them wants to shotgun first. And as Alo dives off the bed so he can be ready to leap onto Rich’s mouth as soon as it’s full, for that smoky kiss, Franky decides that this is something she can afford to trust. They already know her secrets and they don’t care. They know her, and they still want to get high and make out, and really, what more could Franky ask for?


End file.
